Where is
a hand,
when you need one?

Where’s care,
where is the stand
that someone takes,
to get the wherewithal
it takes to feed one?

Where is the garden,
where’s the ground,
the land,
on which to stand
and plant the food that feeds
and does one good?

If we don’t know,
let’s beg
and grant
our own true, heartfelt pardon,
even if there’s not a single
other one who would. . .

and then, let’s find a place
to plant,
envision what we want to grow,
according to our dreams and needs,
learn how,

and then,
with curiosity
and confidence,
let us go ahead
and seed one.

This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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